Amana. A dramatic poem. By a lady:

ACT I.

SCENE, A Fountain.

Enter AMANA, with a Goblet in her Hand.

Amana.

_HAIL sacred fount! blessed by our holy prophet Whose precepts, pure as thy translucent stream, Cleanse the foul man, diffusing health and virtue. Frequent ablutions purge our outward stains, And moral laws preserve our inward pureness. But hark! a caravan approaches near. Quick from all eyes let me conceal my own.

veils.

Enter CALED.

Caled.

Damsel, by heat and thirst impelled, I come To seek refreshment from this hallowed spring. Say, wilt thou lend that goblet?

Amana.

Take it freely.

reaching it to him.

Caled.

Heavens! what an arm, a shape, a mien, an air! Such are the Houries promised us above, And why not taste our happiness below? She must unveil.

aside.

Withdraw that curtain, maid, To cure my passion, or confirm my wonder.

taking hold of her.

Amana.

Rude stranger, hold—

Caled.

Nay then, I'll do it for thee.

they struggle, and her veil falls off.

Enter NOURADIN.

Nouradin.

Insolent slave, forego thy brutal hold, Or by the soul of my departed father,

strikes him.

This moment is thy last. Say, beauteous maid, Can you forgive this ruffian's barbarous outrage, Or shall his instant death make just attonement?

Enter ABDALLAH, and Amana runs to him.

Amana.

O! let me hide me in my father's bosom.

Abdallah.

My loved Amana! my last grasp of life! What monster viler than the wildest Arab, Could dare insult thy unoffending youth, Or force thee lave thy glowing cheeks with tears?

Nouradin.

The slave who dared offend the angelic maid, Waits to receive his doom from her decree, And justice satisfied, too lovely fair, I hope that vassal's crime will rest on him, Absolving us from any purpose vile; Nor may the innocent attone the guilty.

Amana.

Injustice dwells not in a heart like mine, Nor can resentment there long hold a place. To you, my lord, my grateful thanks are due, Who rescued me from brutal violence: That wretch's rude assault I pardon, also. Let him depart unharmed.

Nouradin.

Excellent maid! Thy mind and body sure are of a piece, Bright emanations of the deity!

Abdallah.

If you from insult have preserved Amana, O! take a father's prayer, whose feeling heart, For every wrong she suffers, must drop blood: My age's darling! sole remaining stay Which holds my frame from sinking to the grave. O! could I see that tender lilly propt By fortune's fostering hand, or better far, Supported by the bride-groom rose, I then, With smiles would close my wearied eyes in death.

Nouradin.

O! if the purest flame that ever warmed A virgin heart, for such is mine to love, Unknowing of its pleasures or its pains, 'Till I beheld this loveliest of her sex, And gazed my soul away. O! if a passion, Which in a moment equals that of years, Can make me worthy to possess such charms, Accept that prop, that firm support in me, Whose circling arms shall screen her from each blast, Cherish her blooming years, and nurse her age.

Abdallah.

Since heaven deprived me of its richest bounty, My lost Amestris, joy hath never once Pervaded this dark mansion: the busy guest Now fills each space, nor leaves me room for utterance— Generous young man! thy worth, thy wealth and power, To me are fully known, with gratitude I willingly accept the proffered honour, If my Amana's heart feel no reluctance To aid her father's wish, and make us blest. But should all Egypt's monarch, from his Throne Descending, court her to the bridal bed,

If her repugnant heart refused his love, I would remit a father's stern behest, Nor force my child to splendid misery. What says Amana?

Amana.

My father's tenderness has been so great, That I have scarcely felt the bonds of duty, As inclination prompted every act Which might appear obedience; and in this, The most important deed of all my life, My heart feels no reluctance to obey.

Nouradin.

Extatic sound! thus prostrate at thy feet, Let my full heart pour forth its grateful rapture; And by a life of love, and friendly care, Repay the happiness I now receive.

Abdallah.

Arise, my son, and may our holy prophet With benign aspect smile upon your union: May long and prosperous days attend your lives, And every hour increase your mutual flame.

Nouradin.

This day the mourning for my father ends; From Mecca's shrine, to which in pilgrimage I went, I now return; some Angel, sure, Hath led my footsteps near this sacred fount, And in reward for filial duty paid, Hath blessed me with an husband's happy rites. With her's and your consent, to-morrow's sun Shall see us joined in Hymen's constant bands. Meantime, to Cairo instant we'll repair, Where choicest ornaments shall deck my fair. Their rays inferior by thy eyes be shewn, Which shine in native modesty alone.

exeunt Nouradin, Amana and Abdallah.

Manet CALED.

Caled.

May swift destruction overtake you both, And if wronged Caled's means can lend it aid, They shall be well supplied. Thou Nouradin, Hast robbed me of this maid; I met her first, And had a prior claim. Her childish coyness Would soon have yielded to my free-est wishes, Hadst thou not intervened; while she, right woman, Preferred the fortune to the man. Nor yet, Is this the worst offence; did he not strike thee? And act the bravo's part throughout? A blow! What tho' the chance of war hath quite reversed My outward seemings, still my pride remains As high, as when in Spain, my native country, I was saluted by the stile of lord. And tho' the Turk hath sold my limbs to bondage, The inward man no shackles can controul. My abject state restrains a nobler daring; Therefore I'll seek amends by cautious means, And may revenge quick animate my purpose! 'Tis said that love has wings—But vengeance still Outstrips its flight—The Cyprian queen is drawn By doves—The bird of Jupiter's an eagle. On eagles wings my vengeance now shall speed, And in my talons grasp'd these doves shall bleed.

exit.

SCENE changes to a palace.

Enter OSMIN.

Osmin.

What art thou, pomp? an airy being sure, Delusive shade! which fools alone admire,

But wisemen ne'er enjoy. Even substances Grow vain, and mock the eager grasp; the mind Sated, not satisfied with blooming beauty, Lo! dull disgust pursues the tired embrace. Variety's a cheat—Instead of quickening, It only palls the taste; and sinks our relish To depravity. The lowly cottager, Whose homely wife, made coarse by labour, rests Within his arms, feels more of bliss than I, Who can command a thousand various fair, To inspire new wishes, and revive my ardor: But then it is submission, and not love, Which prompts their yielding—They chuse not Osmin, But obey the Sultan; while in full gust Of amorous dalliance, I but feel myself An happy brute, yet still a wretched man!

Enter FATIMA.

Osmin.

Why Fatima, with ill-timed zeal and fondness, Dost thou obtrude upon my private leizure?

Fatima.

Blame not th'impatience of unchanging passion, Which follows where attraction leads the way: Tho' that, which once to me you urged, is dead, Mine, like the fragrant mittle, lives in frost: Thy chilling coldness may destroy its blossoms, But cannot kill the root.

Osmin.

These strong professions, Of never-ceasing love, sound like upbraidings To my tired ear—I like them not—nor thee.

Fatima.

Oh! do not wound me with such harsh expression;

But since my once loved image hath forborne To mark its former traces in thy bosom, Yet still, in pity to my sex's weakness, Restrain thy speech from scorn. O! spare the guilt To thy own breast, of stabbing mine with grief; Yet leave me hope—the wretch's only solace— And let the jealous doubts of slighted love, And not thy stern decree, pronounce my doom. Oh! suffer me to gaze sometimes in rapture, Upon my sovereign's face; to hear that voice, Which whilom used to inspire my soul with joy, And ease my heart with sighing on thy bosom.

Osmin.

Away—away— dalliance without desire, Is lifeless sport—besides, it might encrease Thy hapless flame; and I in generous pity, Would quickly cure thy simple sex's folly. Retire—I am used to dictate—not to argue.

Fatima.

Since you pronounce it, I will go for ever, A banished wretch, exiled of joy or hope. But dread the anguish thou hast made me feel, May be repaid thee in the same degree: Love is a vengeful power, and will, I hope, Resent his votary's cause: some beauteous maid Shall yet avenge my wrongs, and make thee know Worse pangs than I do now—if possible.

Osmin.

Thy vain predictions, like phantastic dreams, Vanish in empty air. I dare deny That all the charms of thy whole sex conjoined, Can raise, or pain or pleasure, in my breast— Full well I know, therefore despise ye all.

Fatima.

Then hear, almighty love, thy suppliant's prayer— If thou dost ever touch that stubborn heart, With bitterest venom tinge the piercing dart; Mix yellow jealousy, and fire-eyed rage, And may no healing balm his pangs assuage; Let him feel all love's anguish, all its pain, And may his fondest wishes meet disdain.

exit.

Enter NARDIC.

Nardic.

May endless days of never fading bliss Await my sovereign, may still ripening honours Bloom round his brow, and each day add new trophies To adorn his fame. Behold from Gaza's walls A messenger arrived, proclaims your arms Victorious o'er the rebel slaves, who now All own allegiance to thy rightful sway.

Osmin.

'Tis well. Now let those lofty disaffected towers, That braved the heavens, and me, be razed to earth; And let all those who dared oppose my reign, Now feel my vengeance. Is the city sacked?

Nardic.

Yes, mighty Sultan.

Osmin.

Then let its name no longer be remembered. But see, O Nardic! how the short-lived joy, Inspired by this success, like the swift glare Of lightning, is extinguished. Discontent Returns, and renders still thy prince unhappy.

Nardic.

Where then may we seek bliss, if he whose nod Gives life or death, while numerous nations wait Attendant on his will, can yet be wretched!

Whose every sense is gratified to fulness; While all of art, and all of nature join To soothe his wish, and court his appetite! Our bounteous Nile yields all that can indulge The smell or taste, of fruits and flowers luxuriant; Our minstrels cunning in their harmony, Draw forth such dulcet sounds as might assist Creation in her work, and animate The dust from whence we sprang. But, O! the last, The best, the highest pitch of mortal bliss, See the collected master works of nature, The lovely fair from various regions sought, Envying each other every partial smile.

Osmin.

Avaunt, audacious slave! darest thou presume To expostulate with me? When I have said That I am most unhappy, think'st thou then, Thy flattering tongue can gloss my wretchedness? But wherefore do I suffer thee to breathe, Thou abject thing, except to administer Delight to Osmin? Then hear my firm resolve— If in three days thou find'st not some new joy, Some untried vanity, that may awake My soul, and rouse it to a sense of pleasure, Thy head shall pay the forfeit—Vanish straight, Nor waste thy precious time in vain debating.

exit Nardic.

Osmin.

I have surrounded joy's capricious maze, Yet cannot find the clue—Some demon sure With-holds it—But I'll seek it in the pit Of Acheron, or missing, sink in the pursuit. Nor rapes, nor murders, shall obstruct my course,

Pleasures, like maids, must first be won by force; Of them too, when we taste, we soon are cloyed, And only sigh for those not yet enjoyed.

End of the First Act.